


Nowhere Else

by Ada_Lovelaced, LumosLyra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Black Hermione Granger, Bondage, Collaboration, Digital Art, Divorce, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ada_Lovelaced/pseuds/Ada_Lovelaced, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra
Summary: After fleeing to Hogwarts following a failed marriage, Hermione Granger never expected to find love and build a family with Severus Snape. A series of interconnected one-shots inspired by art.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 36
Kudos: 205





	1. Contraction

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to practicing drawing pregnant bodies and LumosLyra is always full of great plunnies and down for a collaboration, thus this was born!

“Go! Go! Gryffindor!” 

The chants of her house filled Hermione’s ears as Llewellyn sped towards the other end of the pitch, quaffle clutched in her hand. Hermione’s smile stretched ear to hear and she threw her hands in the air, cheering with the rest of her house when the seventh year hurled the quaffled through the leftmost hoop. 

She felt the squeeze of Severus’ hand on her hip and she turned back to grin at him from where he stood to the side and slightly behind her, always in a protective stance, especially now that she boasted a belly the size of a fully grown mandrake. But it was her choice to come to the Gryffindor vs Slytherin game, no matter how his brow raised or his quiet tones urged her to sit down and put her feet up. 

She could sense his worry, and even though they were a hundred feet in the air and she was rather top-heavy at the moment, it wasn’t as if the wards set around the stadium would let them fall. 

“I told you!” Hermione squealed, her cheeks pinking with her laughter. “We’re up by fifty and the game’s barely begun.” 

Severus leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear, “And it will end the moment Travers catches the snitch.” 

Hermione’s body twisted and her hands curled around the soft yarn of the green and silver scarf Severus never failed to wear to the Quidditch games, the very same that hung in the closet right next to her red and gold one. “Not unless Aegelhart catches it first.” 

He snorted at that, “Bloody boy is a menace.” 

“You say that about all of them,” she smiled, turning her attention back to the game. 

She felt the press of Severus’ front against her back and the brush of his hair against her cheek as he leaned down, “Because it’s true.” 

“We’re still going to—” Hermione drew a quick breath as her abdomen tightened, the muscles seizing, and slowly blew out the air as the mild contraction finished. “—to win. We’re going to win and then you’ll be wearing red and gold to the next game instead of green and silver.” 

She tried to ignore the concern in his eyes when she turned her head to look at him. The child who rested comfortably beneath her heart was due to make her arrival any day now and every time she felt any sort of twinge, she could see the fear and concern thread through him. 

The moment she’d told him she was pregnant, having nearly thrown the muggle pregnancy test at his head when he looked at her plainly and told her it was impossible, was the first time she’d seen him slam his occlumency shields down in well over two years. His entire face had melted into a practised nonchalance and she’d stormed out of his quarters, still grasping the stick in her hand—the third of which had confirmed exactly what the other two had said. 

He’d caught her by the wrist then and tugged her back, confirming it for a fourth time with a magical alternative. 

And then he left the castle for a week. 

She found him in her favorite bookshop in Hogsmeade, sitting in a plush chair with a faded floral pattern with a stack of books on pregnancy and child-rearing next to him that was nearly as tall as she was. 

She didn’t speak to him for a week after she threw a book at his head and called him an arsehole for leaving her alone in front of a terrified group of second year Hufflepuffs who had never witnessed the fury of Hermione Granger in full force. 

“I think it remains to be seen exactly who will be wearing which colours, my dear.” 

Hermione pressed up on her toes and planted a kiss to his cheek which he promptly scowled at her for. It only made her laugh as she turned back around. Her eyes followed the players as she breathed through another easy contraction, her lower back tight and sore. They’d begun earlier in the morning and had come on and off, though since they’d trekked out to the pitch for the game, the contractions had only begun to increase. 

Later in the game, when she was leaning forward, hands curled around one of the banners draped over the metal railings, she completely lost focus on what was happening when a sharp twinge peaked in her abdomen and she felt a trickle of fluid run down her legs. A gush followed when she tried to turn to get Severus’ attention, her eyes wide as her back and abdomen tightened again in another contraction. It made her gasp and she slowly released the breath as she’d been trained to do, working through the uncomfortable feeling until it dissipated. 

“Do you need a pain potion?” Severus asked, the backs of his fingers brushing against her cheek. 

“No, but we need to leave.” 

He stared down at her, evidently oblivious to the cold, wet amniotic fluid clinging to her trousers. “Ah, now that Slytherin is winning you want to leave. See, I told you—” 

She grasped his arm with her hand, fingers sinking into the expensive wool of his coat. “Severus, kindly stop your boasting unless you’d like your daughter to be born in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.” 

His dark eyes darted between her face and her rounded stomach and if it weren’t for the fact that her lower back began tightening again, she would have found herself amused with his slower-than-usual uptake. “Good god, woman. Why didn’t you say?” 

Her eyes squinted closed and her voice came out through gritted teeth as she forced herself to breathe through the contraction. “I just did, can we go now instead of rowing about it?” 

In actuality, the trip to the hospital took very little time but the anticipation, fear, and joy surrounding her, over the knowledge that their daughter would soon make her entry into the world, made it go by that much slower. 

They took the floor, Severus grip on her hand and bag tighter than she has ever felt it and when they arrived at St. Mungos, Hermione had to gently remind Severus that the receptionist was in fact a person who had feelings and that bellowing at her, even if she was a former student, was distinctly uncalled for. 

She changed out of her robes into the light blue flimsy hospital cotton gown, tuckingther clothing away carefully in the small closet off of the private loo. She draped her scarf around her robes and padded on bare feet back into the small suite only to find it empty.

"Severus?" she called, hand resting on her lower back as she felt another contraction. She took the few short steps to the bed and grasped the railing as she breathed through the pain, trying to still the well of panic in her chest. 

No one came. 

She eased herself up onto the bed and twisted the gold ring around her finger as she waited. Her mind swam with thoughts of her failed marriage - inadequate and worthless — that's what her ex husband had called her, and though they had been divorced some five years, the sting was still as sharp as the day Roger had hurled the insults at her from across their small flat in Bristol in the row that finally ended their tumultuous two-year marriage. 

Would her future marriage to Severus end the same way, with words that cut like a slicing hex? Her eyes caught the flash of green and silver from her periphery and she leaned over, grasping his scarf and tugging it out from under his coat. She wrapped it around her neck and breathed in the comforting scent of him, letting it soothe her worries. If his things were in the room, she knew that meant he would come back. 

Wouldn’t he?

Severus wasn't like  _ him  _ and Severus would  _ never _ be like him. He wouldn't abandon her, he wouldn't abandon their daughter. And even though he’d only said the words a handful of times, it was evident in his actions how much he loved her. She tried to focus on what she knew to be true, not deep wounds from a failed marriage.

Tears pricked at her eyes as her thoughts swirled into another memory, reminding her of how he’d left when he'd found out she was pregnant. They discussed it later, tucked into his bed with the fire roaring on the other side of the room, and she realized how terrified he was of becoming a father, of imparting everything terrible from his own childhood on their unborn child. 

The door to the suite swung up and Hermione caught sight of his shadow before Severus walked into the room carrying two steaming hot cups of tea. Another contraction came before she could say anything to him and her hands grasped her stomach and she drew in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly. 

The cups of tea were discarded on the small table and Severus was at her side, one hand settled over her stomach. She couldn’t see the look of shock on his face as she breathed through the pain, but his presence at her side and the weight of his hand on her stomach, protecting her — protecting them - comforted her. 

The pain from the contraction eased and the tears she had been holding back rolled down her cheeks. She felt the weight of him on the bed and felt herself being pulled into his arms, and even though she knew he was there, he felt so far away. 

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his robes and a loud, pained cry tore from her lips as everything she had been feeling before the contraction washed over her once more. 

She whimpered, sniffling as he tucked her against his chest, his hand cupping the back of her head. He didn’t speak or shush her, simply let her cry, the weight of his arms settled around her as he softly kissed her forehead. 

She didn’t mean to say it aloud, but her lips moved against the ornate brocade of his waistcoat, disjointed and rasped. “Don’t leave Severus, don’t leave us.”

Hermione felt him stiffen and felt the rumble of his voice before she heard his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Hermione.” He tugged her left hand away from her stomach, tucking his fingers into her palm and lifting her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the simple gold band on her fingers. “This means I’m never leaving, Hermione. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I had any intention of not spending the rest of our lives together.”

She nodded and sound, somewhere between a cry and a laugh, bubbled up from her throat when he added, “That would be foolish and if there is one thing I strive never to be, it is a fool.” 

“I love you,” she said, pressing her cheek more firmly against his chest and squeezing his hand tightly as another slow contraction made her wince, the sound of blood rushing through her ears obscuring his reply.

“I’m getting you a pain potion.” 

“It’s not that—ow,  _ fuck _ ―bad… mild, really.” 

He chuckled and kissed the ring on her finger once more before kissing her hairline, her heart contracting in her chest at the gesture. “Insufferable witch.”

Hermione exhaled again as the pain began to ease, and she peeked up at him from behind tear stained lashes, a small smile curving her lips as her feelings of inadequacy and fears of abandonment ebbed. “Take a symbiosis potion and you’ll see.” 

He snorted, shaking his head before he brushed the tears from her cheeks, his lips curling into a small smile. “I’d rather get you a pain potion.” 

She waved him off and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Later. It’s bearable for now and I’d much rather you stay right here, Severus.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 


	2. Saturday Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus enjoys keeping Hermione in bed before being subjected to his least favorite activity—breakfast in the Great Hall… on Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags!

It was early in the day, the light from the rising sun filtering in through the gauzy curtains at the window and illuminating the space in a warm glow. The fire in the hearth in their rooms had burnt down to a low ember, making the cozy space they called home inviting and warm. Severus was shrouded in a cocoon of soft sheets and the plush duvet Hermione had insisted upon when they agreed to move in together. He’d never admit it, but she was right when she said their rooms should be somewhere in the middling floors of the castle, and after years of dim and greenish light filtering through the waters of the lake into the dungeons, Severus found he appreciated the beauty of the morning. 

And it would have been a perfect morning save for the fact that his heavily pregnant bride-to-be was not in their bed. 

Severus’ arm fell upon cool sheets when he turned over, intent on keeping her in bed for just a few minutes longer before duty called. Breakfast in the Great Hall, even on Saturdays, was compulsory. It was one thing—of a list of four—that he would have done differently had he made the decision to remain Headmaster. Instead, he’d turned that particular title over to Minerva and she’d mandated breakfast, the insufferable cat. 

He was hungry, but not for anything resembling a full English or a bowl of porridge. He’d much rather that his witch come back to bed so he could drink his fill of her before he was subjected to another day of supervising imbecilic children in Hogsmeade. In truth, Severus didn’t mind teaching, now that he was no longer subjected to multiple classes each week of trying to keep his pupils alive around a myriad of volatile ingredients. That pleasure had been bestowed upon his godson who invoked the fear of god into all of the students below the current fifth year class since someone started a rumor that Professor Malfoy practised dark hexes on students who disobeyed. 

It didn’t help that he regularly kept his sleeves rolled and glared heavily at students who stared too closely at his marred forearm. Given how protective Hermione was of Draco, Severus suspected for a while that she might have started the rumor, but she’d yet to confirm or deny her involvement.

When she’d first come to Hogwarts two years ago to take over for Filius, Severus never expected them to get on, let alone to fall in love with her. She was his former student for Merlin’s sake. But she slowly whittled him down, inviting herself to tea, plying with him rare books on spell-craft, walking around in those  _ bloody _ bustled robes she favoured, and generally worming her way into his life until he realized she was what he had been missing all along. When she left for two weeks to visit her parents in Australia, he’d been miserable—always turning to the left at breakfast to tell her something only to find she wasn’t there or making his way to the Charms classroom to drop off her bi-weekly dose of  _ Delinio Draught _ to soothe the nerve damage from her prolonged exposure to the  _ Cruciatus _ Curse. 

He  _ loved _ her, and for months, saying the words was impossible. His mouth didn’t even dare form the syllables, he found it so preposterous. 

Severus Snape in love? 

Poppycock. 

Even letting her know he cared beyond the bounds of friendship was unthinkable, he was so certain of her rejection. Hermione Granger was a witch who was kind to everyone—crusader for house elves and defender of the downtrodden were practically her middle names. Why should her kindness extend beyond the bonds of friendship? 

But her second Hallowe’en on staff changed all of that and set him on a course that would irrevocably give him a future he never expected to have.

Marriage. 

Children.

_ Domesticity. _

It was terrifying how easy happiness had come after the years of anguish and uncertainty. He certainly felt aged beyond his years and coping with the knowledge that he could be—that he was happy still unsettled him. 

But this early in the morning, such thoughts hadn’t had time to creep in and sour his day, especially when he knew there was a young, beautiful witch somewhere in their suite who was currently insatiable in her desire for him. 

He was quite grateful when her persistent morning sickness gave way to near-constant arousal. 

Begrudgingly, Severus slipped out of their bed, padding on bare feet to where his robe hung from a hook nearby. Long, dark hair brushed his shoulders as he pulled on the simple black flannel robe, tying it around his waist in a simple knot and slipping his feet into his slippers. He opened the door to the washroom first but found it empty. The large, walk-in closet was also devoid of his witch, and so he opened the door and stepped out into the sitting room to find it empty as well. 

With a frown, Severus turned and trekked down the narrow hallway, finally finding the door to the nursery ajar. Hermione stood with her back to the door, wrapped her own robe with slippers on her feet, folding the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen and neatly tucking them into the chest of drawers below. 

He watched her for a moment, a soft and contented smile curving over his lips as he lingered in the doorway. He wasn’t a particularly effusive man, but moments like these where he was struck with the force of his love for her, he could have penned sonnets innumerable on the depths of his emotions. But he tucked the memories safely away in a tidy box in his mind, a habit from years of fearing any shred of happiness he managed to grasp might be snatched away. His smile had already fallen into a facade of impassivity when she finished folding the clothing. Next, she opened a small box on top of the chest of drawers and began unpacking several muggle bottles, arranging them in a neat line before vanishing the packaging with a wave of her wand. 

Severus stepped inside as Hermione set her wand down on the chest of drawers and pulled his arms around her. She didn’t say anything, merely leaned back into his embrace and turned her head to kiss his cheek. His hand parted the seam of her robe and slipped inside, fingers spreading to cover her rounded stomach. Hermione’s hand curled around his wrist and moved his hand to to left and he felt the tiny life thriving within his witch kick and wiggle in apparent greeting. 

With a tilt of his head, Severus kissed Hermione’s hairline, letting his lips linger as he breathed in the scent of her as their child squirmed in the safety of her mother’s belly. 

“You’re up early,” he said, his fingers playing over her dark skin, brushing the purpled lines of the curse scar his fingers knew so well. 

She hummed softly and swayed slightly in his arms. “Reflux. I already took something.” 

“Good.” 

Severus’ fingers withdrew from her robes and toyed with the knot holding them closed. A gentle tug on the string released the tie and the robe parted, revealing her rounded stomach. He pulled the robe to one side and bent to place a line of kisses at her shoulder before his hand crept upward to cup one of her breasts. 

He tugged her back against him and she sighed happily, her arm curving back above her head to sink her fingers into his hair, opening herself to him. Blunted nails scratched at his scalp as he laid another gentle trail of kisses across her skin. She turned her head and he captured her lips, shifting his body slightly to the side as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, A moan tumbled from her lips and her fingers tightened in his hair. 

His body twisted and her hand released his hair as he moved in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his hands so he could kiss her more firmly. Severus tilted her head and she parted for him, lips opening and tongue seeking his as her fingers brushed over the mottled scarring left behind on his neck from his near-death encounter. He shivered at the brief passing of her fingers as they moved to toy with the tie on his robe. It loosened as she pulled and the robe parted when she released it, leaving them both half-clothed. The warm skin of her stomach met his as his fingers sank into her hair, holding her in place as his lips moved against hers, each kiss a reminder of his love, his passion, his appreciation for the woman in his arms.

One of his hands skated over her supple curves, landing on her hip and moving her out of the nursery. Her back pressed against the wall of the short hallway and her arms wound around his neck, fingers brushing through the dark hair at the base of his skull. Severus’ lips left Hermione’s to settle over her neck and pillowed against the soft flesh before sinking his teeth in, his tongue laving over her pulsepoint and feeling the flutter of her heart beneath. 

Hermione moaned, “Severus, bed… now.” 

His hands skated over her arms, removing them from his neck before pinning them to the wall behind her. “No.” 

Her growl of frustration eased into another soft moan when he removed his hands, leaving her wrists momentarily stuck to the wall with a mild sticking charm and bending low to wrap his lips around one of her nipples. The bud peaked as he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue twisting to curl around it as his other hand slid over the curve of her stomach to cup her other breast in his hand. 

“I’m cross with you,” he muttered, his mouth sliding over her sternum and leaving a wet trail before taking her other nipple into his mouth. 

Her breath caught when his teeth tugged at the sensitive bud and the word squeaked out on a gasped breath. “Why?” 

His hand swept a line above the rug, casting a silent cushioning charm before he sank to his knees. His hands brushed her rounded stomach and he kissed down the dark line at the center before easing her legs apart with his hands. 

“You left me in bed alone.” 

She laughed, “I hardly think that’s a rea—” but her words were cut off by a perfect whimper when his fingers parted the slick pink folds at the apex of her thighs and his tongue swept through them. 

With a press of his hands to her thighs, her feet shifted over the wood, her legs widening as her back arched against the wall. “Good girl,” he praised against her center, the vibrations of his words pulling another moan from her throat. Severus slipped two fingers inside of her and swiped his thumb over her clit as he pulled back to a tall kneel, watching the way her face contorted in pleasure with each thrust of his fingers and nudge of his thumb.

She was radiant with flushed cheeks and plush lips parted as her breath left her lungs in little panted puffs of air. He loved her like this—flushed with desire and desperate for more. He’d keep her in bed all day if he had the chance, pulling her to the edge and prolonging her pleasure until she was boneless and sated in a way only he could provide. He missed the days where it was safe to bind her yards of black rope crafted into intricate harnesses with a myriad of knots and loops, something they hadn’t done since she was still in the early stages of her pregnancy. She would be even more radiant now with ropes lightly pressing into her dark skin, curving around her supple thighs, and criss-crossing beneath her breasts. 

His thumb moved from her clit and parted her folds as his fingers curled within her. Severus’ mouth covered her sex, tongue drawing long swipes through the slick arousal coating her folds before flicking her clit with the tip at the end of each stroke. Her pleasure built, the walls of her cunt pulsing and tightening around his fingers as he circled her clit with his lips. Just as she was at the edge he stopped, tugging his mouth away from her to sweetly kiss her thighs as his fingers withdrew to settle against the neat thatch of curls beneath her belly.

She whimpered between rapid, panted breaths. “You’re horrible, you know that? An absolute—” He lightly pinched her clit causing her to whine. “—an absolute tosser.” 

“Have you forgotten I can play this game all day, Hermione? I suggest you watch your tone, unless you’d like to go breakfast incredibly frustrated.” He chuckled and stood up from the floor, pushing his robe off of him and letting it fall in a heap at his feet, before he released her arms, draping them around his neck and kissing her, hard. 

She pulled back, eyes fluttering half-open. “I’d rather you make me come before breakfast.” 

He slipped his hand down and parted her folds once more, caressing her entrance before teasing her clit with a few quick strokes. “You’re bold this morning.” 

She smiled against his lips. “I thought you liked me bold,  _ sir. _ ” 

He allowed a growl to rumble from his chest as he withdrew his fingers and settled his hands over her shoulders, pushing her robe off to join his on the floor. “We don’t have time to play,  _ pet. _ ” 

She looked up at him with longing and lust clouding her eyes. “There’s always time, Severus.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Not for that… not for what I’d like to do to you if we had the time.” His mind conjured countless images of her in bondage, with his cock buried in her throat, with drips of wax covering her breasts, and other activities that would take much longer than the time they had available. 

Severus grasped Hermione’s hand and he tugged her down the short hallway and back around the corner and into their bedroom. He kicked his slippers off and they thumped against the wall before he slipped behind Hermione. His arms curled around her and he leaned forward to press his lips against her temple, one of his hands coming up to cup her breast while the other rested against her stomach. 

Her mouth parted and another sweet sound fell from her lips as her hand joined his over her stomach, the pads of her fingers brushing over his knuckles. The love he felt from that simple gesture crackled through him like the rush of a lightning bolt striking the ground. His nerves alighted, his mind cleared and suddenly, he was insatiable.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, witch?” His body pressed against hers, cock nestled at the low of her back as he growled dangerously against her ear. “If I had my way, you’d never leave my bed.” 

“Then take me to bed.” He could hear the smile in her voice obscuring the needy tremor that came with her body being still alight and buzzing from dancing on the precipice of pleasure.

She twisted around and lifted onto her toes to kiss him and they stumbled toward the bed. He sat down, using his hands to propel him backwards before lifting one to help her onto the bed. She knelt at his side, small fingers wrapping around cock as she stroked her hand along his length, her thumb brushing over every thick vein.

He preferred to be on top of her, covering Hermione’s body with his own and heightening her pleasure with each intentional cant of his hips that sparked a deep seated pleasure within his witch. Being on her back was no longer comfortable at this stage of pregnancy and Severus had developed a quiet appreciation for feeling the grip of her thighs along his hips as she positioned herself over him.

It didn’t matter to him how he fucked her, how they made love, how he worshiped her body. As long as she allowed it, he would be there to show her how much he cared and how she deserved to be cherished, something her pathetic excuse of an ex-husband seemed incapable of providing.

But he would provide for her, whether it was brewing a complicated potion to lessen her tremors or holding her close and whispering praises reverently in her ears after a particularly intense scene. 

Severus had resolved to love her until there was no longer breath in his body. 

The ring he slipped on her finger months ago was the manifestation of that promise and when they were finally bound as husband and wife, he hoped she might feel his resolve. 

Severus’ eyes traced a path between the sight of Hermione’s hand wrapped around his cock and the way her face lit up with pride when she brought him pleasure. Her hand stroked him, thumb swiping over the sensitive glans and he reached out to curl his hand around her thigh, urging her legs to part. She shifted and his fingers sank once more inside of her, drawing the fall of soft syllables and swears from between her lips. 

“Come here,” he beckoned when he felt her walls tighten around his fingers, her own hand faltering in the evenness of her strokes. She complied, lifting a leg to straddle his hips before positioning his aching length between her folds before sinking down slowly. Her lips parted in a soft moan as he filled her, his own mind buzzing with the blissful feeling of being sheathed within her once more. 

When Hermione’s hips were flush with his, she rocked forward, lifting up slightly and sinking back down causing a zip of euphoria to alight over his spine. Severus’ hands settled over her hips, guiding Hermione’s strokes as he watched her take her pleasure from him. Warmth built in his abdomen, tightening and twisting until his body was burning from the feel of being buried inside of his witch. Her hands braced against his chest and he steadied her when her balance faltered before one of his hands slipped between where their bodies met. The vee he created with his fingers to surround her clit pulled the orgasm from her primed body and he heard the sound of his name falling from her lips. 

The way it fell, each rapturous syllable rounded with devotion, and the feel of her walls tightening around him pushed him over the edge and into that sweet oblivion where nothing but pleasure existed. The world blinked out of existence for a millisecond as he emptied himself into her while she trembled around him. 

It was a feeling he could never forget, the way her body felt pressed against him as he eased her off of his softening cock and tucked her carefully into his chest. His arms curled protectively around her, one hand coming to rest over her rounded stomach and he felt the press of her lips against the brightly swirled scar near his collarbone.

“Are you still cross with me?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice as her nose nuzzled against his skin. 

He pretended to think about it for a moment, letting his fingers brush over the dark wild curls he’d grown to love “I’ll forgive you for your slight if you accompany me to Hogsmeade.” 

Her body shook with quiet laughter, “If you’ll send the elves up with breakfast.” 

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “If I must be subjected to the horror of breakfast on Saturdays, you, my dear, are also not exempt.” 

She grumbled, though he knew she was only pretending for his sake, her fingers still stroking softly over his chest. “At least call Middy and ask her for a bit of lemon curd and peanut butter for my waffles.” 

“Done.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cam say hi to [LumosLyra](https://lumoslyra.tumblr.com/) and [Ada Lovelaced](https://ada-lovelaced.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


	3. Hallowe'en

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus lost a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this painting](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Huguenot), A Huguenot on St. Bartholomew's Day by John Everett Millais, painted in England, 1852.

He never should have challenged her to a duel. 

In hindsight, it had been foolish to name Hermione co-chair of the newly reinstated Hogwarts Duelling Club at all. How anyone could move so fast in those bustled robes she insisted upon wearing, Severus would never know. 

He’d underestimated the little witch and was now faced with the visual representation of his loss. 

And it was purple. 

An ornate violet coat hung amidst the sea of dark hues within his closet, taunting him with the audacity of its existence. Draped over the hanger lay a set black woolen tights and a matching velvet cap. At this point, he could only thank Merlin that it didn’t have a feather attached to it to make him appear even more foppish and foolish than he already felt knowing he’d have to wear them. 

If anything, Severus Snape was a man of his word, even if it meant wearing robes he despised. 

The robes  _ he’d  _ chosen for Hallowe’en had been tailored specifically to his body and in them, he cut a striking figure. They were exceptional, highlighting the strong line of his shoulders and above all, were not purple. The shirt was crisp and dove gray with a meticulously embroidered slate waistcoat that would have peeked out from beneath the sumptuous robes. He’d even chosen a matching tie and cufflinks for the occasion. 

He’d expected her to opt for an antique bustled ballgown, given her affinity for them, they would have looked quite the striking pair, even if they were only friends. Unfortunately, his fickle witch surprised him with a costume she’d had made to resemble a pre-Raphaelite painting she’d found in one of her books on muggle art. She insisted that if they were required to attend, the least he could do was don a matching costume. 

He steadfastly refused. 

She’d even attempted to persuade him that somehow Minervra had convinced Draco to dress in matching tartan, which he found beyond absurd.

And then she’d bet him she could put him on his arse during Duelling Club and he’d foolishly accepted her challenge, thinking there wasn’t a chance she might actually succeed. 

The towel around Severus’ waist dropped to the floor and his hand wrapped around the woolen leggings, removing them from the hanger. He dressed quickly, donning each layer of period-appropriate attire until he had no choice but to remove the offensive garment from his armoire and put it on.

He slipped his arms into the coat and adjusted the sleeves before fastening each tiny button through it’s equally miniscule hole. His feet slipped into soft-leather slippers and he adjusted his hair with a grumble, before adding the ridiculous velvet cap. 

The towel was banished to the hamper with a flick of his wand and he left his quarters, muttering under his breath with each step drawing him closer to the Great Hall.

Students were everywhere, dressed in wizarding and muggle costumes alike, roaming the halls and chattering excitedly as he threw open the doors to the Great Hall and stalked inside, finding the object of his affection and irritation levitating yet another jack-o-lantern into the air. 

As Severus surveyed her, a smile rose to his lips and for just a moment, he forgot about their matching costumes. She looked resplendent in a dark gown made of heavily detailed brocade with puffed and slashed sleeves to reveal delicate gold silk. The farthingale beneath held it away from her body, the fabric catching the light as she moved, and Severus couldn’t help but wonder if she’d opted for period appropriate undergarments or had decided upon modern knickers beneath her skirts. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate knot, a jeweled comb peeking out from her tamed curls and matching necklace resting at the base of her throat. 

“Severus!” she called, beckoning him over with a bright smile on her face. 

For months he’d felt something for her, too afraid to put a name to it and even more fearful to act upon it. Still, that ache in his chest was ever present, reminding him that he was far too old, too cynical and damaged by his past to warrant anything beyond friendly affection for her. It didn’t stop him from fantasizing about what  _ could _ be, but he kept a tight rein on it, not daring to hope. 

He schooled his features and stepped around one of the round tables to make his way to her side where she was surrounded by several lit jack-o-lanterns. 

“Hermione.” 

A delicate hand brushed over the bright fabric of the coat, fingers lingering over the intricate design. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear it.” 

“Are you saying I’m not a man of my word, Miss Granger?” 

She snorted and waved him off. “We’re well past that, Severus. And no, of course not. At the very least, I assumed you might change the colour.” 

He clenched his teeth so as not to gape at her for presenting a perfectly viable alternative than the garish colour currently blanketing his person. 

Insufferable witch. 

“Yes, well. Consider my debt discharged.” 

She dimpled at him, levitating another pumpkin in the air and gesturing for him to do the same. “Besides, you look rather dashing in it.” 

“Don’t be absurd.” 

“After all, who knew you had such shapely legs beneath those stiff trousers you wear?” 

Thick brows rose above his eyes at her brazen comment and for just a brief moment, the rush of blood through his ears drowned out the chatter of the rest of the professors and prefects putting the finishing touches on the Great Hall. 

She couldn’t possibly be serious. 

Severus leveled his gaze, his wand idly directing several jack-o-lanterns into the air to float over the Hall with the others. “Have you by chance sampled the punch, Professor Granger? Or perhaps one of our favorite miscreants slipped something into your afternoon tea.” 

Her laugh rang clearly through the Hall as her hand settled on his arm, gentle fingers smoothing over the rich fabric. “I think not, Severus. Come outside with me. Hagrid has managed a few bats this year and while he’s bringing in the larger pumpkins, I said I’d fetch them.” 

“Are you incapable of managing wildlife by yourself now?” he teased, allowing her to slip her arm through his. He enjoyed the closeness of walking with her like this, the warmth of her body near his own and the swish of her skirts against his legs. It was one of those moments where he dared to allow himself a moment to consider how different this might be under different circumstances. 

Her tone was light as they pushed through the side door and stepped out into the cool evening air. “Goodness, you’re in a mood tonight.” 

The sun set over the horizon, casting the grounds in a haunting glow as the wind rustled through the trees. Severus gave a non-committal hum and guided her with sure steps towards Hagrid’s hut in the distance. Hallowe’en was possibly his least favourite night of the year. Decades ago his former best friend’s life had been ripped from her body and though they weren’t on speaking terms, fond memories of her remained carved upon his heart. He loved Lily Potter—his first friend, the woman who stood by him for most of their childhood, and the woman he sold his soul in an attempt to protect, but he knew his love for her was unrequited, something he didn’t understand when he was younger. And even though the memories of this night haunted him, there was nowhere else he would rather be than escorting Hermione Granger across the grounds of Hogwarts dressed in a ridiculous costume at her request. 

She leaned into him, her steps pausing and he stopped with her, unwilling to let the moment pass them by. The orange glow from the setting sun cast over her, bringing to life the gold around her neck and the simple studs at her ears. Her flushed cheeks dotted with freckles drew his gaze and he stared at her in wonder as she watched the sun set on the horizon. 

“Isn’t it lovely, Severus?” 

“Yes, beautiful,” he said, though the sun was the furthest thing from his mind. 

Her head turned and she smiled up at him, drawing an embroidered kerchief lined in lace from her sleeve. “I almost forgot.” 

“Hm?” 

A blush crept over her cheeks, “It’s in the painting,” she said, pulling the fabric through her fingers. 

“I trust you’ll enlighten me.” 

He watched as her teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing the plump flesh between them and threatening his control not to pluck it away with a brush of his thumb. 

“It’s a token… of sorts.” 

His hand settled against hers, stilling her incessant wrinkling of the fabric with the simple touch. “A token.” 

She drew a breath, the words pushing over her tongue in a flurry of frenzied syllables. “When a knight would go to battle or to a duel, the lady would offer a token of her affection. Something simple like a ribbon or a handkerchief for luck, in hope that he came back from the bit of danger unharmed.” 

He stared down at the bit of white in her hands. “And do you expect the bats to somehow maim me in transport, Hermione?” 

Her head shook, dislodging one of her curls and he reflexively brushed it away. “No, I…” 

He closed the distance between them, the warm of her body nearly pressed against his own. His heart thrummed in his chest, pushing the rush of blood through his veins and filling him with something so close to hope he could nearly taste it. “Then say what you mean, witch.” 

Her fingers twined the bit of white cloth around the voluminous sleeve of his coat. “I don’t want to be friends any longer, Severus. I want something more and I understand if you don’t—”

He swept her into an embrace, strong arms settling around her frame, while one of his hands brushed over the smooth expanse of her cheek. The tension drained from her body and her fingers played with the knot in the silk as he drew her impossibly closer before dipping low and pressing his lips to hers in a tentative token of his own. 

Soft lips pillowed against his as she dropped the bit of silk and her arms found their way around his neck. Her fingers pushed through his hair in a burst of confidence that was so much more  _ her _ than the nervous creature who had been stumbling over her words. He understood her hesitancy, given her failed marriage, and the fact that she was willing to trust him with her heart was humbling. 

The little witch had so thoroughly ensconced herself in his life that he’d never even seen her coming, but he certainly wouldn’t trade the fire licking through his veins from her tender touch for anything. 

Their noses brushed when he pulled back and she leaned forward, a soft whimper tumbling over her pouted lips when he didn’t immediately kiss her again. His stony facade crumbled for just a moment under her gaze and he allowed himself to sink into the contentment washing over him in gentle waves. 

It was overwhelming the way her confession quietly occupied space within his mind. She wanted  _ him _ , not for his skill with a wand or ability to brew, but for the man she’d been able to find through the small cracks in the protective shroud he rarely released. 

Hermione’s fingers brushed over the fabric of the coat, hands sliding down his arms until her fingers caught at the curve of his elbow. “Thank you for indulging me and wearing this tonight, Severus. I know it’s outside of your zone of comfort.” 

He leaned forward, letting his lips linger against the smooth skin just beneath her hairline, his gentle inhale picking up the herbal notes from the products she used in her hair. “I’ll thank you to never again offer me anything of this colour.” 

Her forehead crinkled against his lips as she smiled. “I wouldn’t mind if you took it off.” 

Pulling back, Severus watched her cheeks bloom scarlet. “Are you trying to get me out of my robes so quickly, Hermione?” 

Her mouth gaped and he chuckled at her embarrassment, turning and tucking her arm back into his. “Come. We can discuss the particulars surrounding my clothing after we’ve fetched these bats you seemed so keen to retrieve earlier.” 

Heavy skirts brushed his legs as she tucked herself just a bit closer to him than before as they walked toward Hagrid’s. “I only meant because you despise the colour.” 

“I might believe you, were it not for the blush on your cheeks.” 

“Yes, well. Clearly, you’re not quite ready for such things,” she said, firmly keeping her gaze on the horizon. 

He stopped walking and tugged her toward him until she collided softly into his chest. His fingers brushed over the gold necklace near her throat, pulling a soft gasp from her lips as his finger trailed up and over her fluttering pulse. “I think you’ll find, Hermione, that if we continue down this path of thinly-veiled commentary, the feast will be short two chaperones.” 

The rosy hue to her cheeks burned brighter than before and he captured her lips, thoughts of all of the satisfying ways their night might end swirling through his mind as the sun sank below the horizon. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me and Lumos on [tumblr](https://ada-lovelaced.tumblr.com/) and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/ada_lovelaced/) and check out some more art!


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